


Hey, Dad

by wearethewitches



Series: Un père et sa fille. [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Father's Day, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Parental Jethro Gibbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: The father’s day card goes on the mantlepiece.
Relationships: Ziva David & Jethro Gibbs
Series: Un père et sa fille. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895929
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Hey, Dad

He’s been seeing the fliers everywhere, of course. Blue, yellow, green, all emblazoned in shops with the words _Father’s Day_. He tries to ignore it. Gibbs isn’t really successful. At work, at least, he can get some peace from the hallmark holiday – up until Tony, of course, catches Tim doing some online shopping.

“I’m getting my dad a gift!”

Tony makes a face, “Why? This is the dad that told you that you could make a better card, right? Bit late, though.”

“It’s tradition,” Tim rolls his eyes, “Me and Sarah always get him something. I’m just usually the one that can afford it – and the gift I paid for went out of stock. I’m browsing through one-day delivery.”

And Tony leans in, contemplative as he reads off the various products on eBay. Gibbs is used to Tony doing this. He keeps ignoring it, but then he can’t, because Tony’s asking him why he isn’t making him something from scratch and all he can think about is Kelly. She made him something for Father’s Day every year, no matter whether he was away or not.

Gibbs can’t take it. Tony is still jabbering on, sniping at Tim while Ziva continues to work quietly in the background; no doubt, she’s thinking about Eli, the bastard. She doesn’t deserve such an awful man to be her father, no – not her. Getting up, Gibbs storms away, a twinge in his heart making him lift his hand, finger crooking in Ziva’s direction in a _follow me_ gesture as he rushes past. Wide-eyed and confused, she still manages to get up and join him in record time. In the back of his mind, Gibbs wonders whether Kelly would have kept that similar trait, the one where she’d follow him around the house for hours when he came back from deployment; every time one of his team does it, he’s reminded of her.

Ziva eventually asks, brimming with energy, “What is it? Have I done something wrong?”

They wait for the elevator. Gibbs says, “Thought you’d need a break from all that crap.”

“That…” Ziva glances back to the bullpen “… _crap_ , was nothing. I was not distressed.” Gibbs is quiet, still waiting, even as Ziva watches him with a spark of realisation. “Were you?”

Gibbs glances her way – a silent _yeah_ – before entering the elevator. Ziva follows after a moment, then they ride down to the parking lot, a comfortable silence falling as they both think on things they’d rather not. They go for coffee, Gibbs paying for his teammate’s drink when the bill comes up – and then, inevitably, Gibbs gets a call.

The case is simple for once, the LEOs having caught the culprit red-handed; they only need NCIS to consult, as the murderer in question is a Marine lieutenant. Tony makes a quip about Father’s Day being quiet for once when they return to the office, recalling his Metro days where fathers were getting shot by their kids like fish in a barrel, it seems. They fill out the paperwork while Tim frets over his one-day delivery and eventually, Gibbs’ team scatters to the four winds, leaving him behind to file the documents.

He _thought_ they left, that is.

He’s approaching the bullpen from the direction of the internal elevator when he sees her at his desk – Ziva, placing a white envelope against his lamp, clearly for him to pick up in the morning or whenever he next returns. Gibbs watches her fidget for a moment, tilting it this way and that. She even picks it up completely, at one point, changing her mind. But she puts it back, muttering to herself and Gibbs gives up the waiting game, approaching from behind.

Ziva turns, of course, eyes widening at the sight of him. “Gibbs-” she starts, panicked. Gibbs puts up one finger, quieting her without a word. He picks up the envelope from where she’d last set it down.

It isn’t special. The envelope is cheap and inside, once he opens it, Gibbs finds a store-bought card. On the front in swirly golden print are the words _Thank You Very Much!_ and when he opens it up, he finds a handwritten message.

_Gibbs._

_I will not presume to give you a gift for Father’s Day. I know that Kelly was the most precious gift you could ever have been given. Only, I do not think she would have wanted you to be sad, as you are today. Though I am not your daughter, you have been a father to me, one who has shown me true care and a willingness to be charitable in the face of my troubles._

_You have protected me and guided me on my journey to here and now and I wanted to thank you in some way, for my own feelings are complex and deep. I care for you, as a mentor, as a person and as a father. There is no more I can say that I am sure you do not already know._

_Ziva._

Something in him melts. It’s the same sort of feeling he had before, when his heart ached for the woman with Eli David for a father; Gibbs doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around her, cradling her close.

“You’re my kid.” Gibbs states it with all the surety he can muster. “Like Kelly.”

He feels more than hears her relieved breath, voice muffled as she asks, “You like the card?”

“I’m going to put it on my mantlepiece,” he replies. He’d stick it to his fridge, if it were a drawing or macaroni art – but cards are for over the fireplace. They always have been. Whether they were from his in-laws, dad, friends, Shannon or Kelly herself, that was where cards went. Now, Gibbs will have a new person to display in his home.

Pressing a kiss to her hair, Gibbs steps back, tucking the card in his inside jacket pocket before gathering his stuff. He jerks his head, motioning for her to follow. “Come on, it’s getting late. Get out of here.”

Ziva almost…almost _glows_ for a moment, smiling as she gathers her belongings and follows him out of the Navy Yard. Gibbs doesn’t contain his own grin for once, as they ride the elevator down to the lot.

_She’s my kid._

The father’s day card goes on the mantlepiece.


End file.
